Riverworld Beginnings: Just Passing Through
by Random Guise
Summary: Fourth story based on the Riverworld books by Philip José Farmer where all of humanity that ever lived has awoken alongside a river that completely covers a world. This one crosses over with the main character from L. Sprague de Camp and Fletcher Pratt's "The Compleat Enchanter". Harold Shea accidentally travels to the Riverworld with a certain lost astronaut.


**A/N: A mashup of the main character from the book The Compleat Enchanter by L. Sprague de Camp and Fletcher Pratt, as well as the setting from Philip José Farmer's Riverworld and a guest appearance by a musical astronaut.**

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Riverworld Beginnings: Just Passing Through

Harold Shea arranged his notes carefully. After making a miscalculation on his first attempt and visiting the world of Norse mythology instead of Irish legend, he knew the importance of getting his calculations right.

The trouble was that his friend and senior colleague Reed Chalmers wanted to go on a trip with him, and Harold still wanted to make sure that he had the system down well enough not to embarrass himself in front of the man. So a quick trip was in order; just pop in, look around to establish it had worked correctly, and contact a wizard or magician on the other side to send him back home if he couldn't accomplish the feat on his own. He'd be back and have that extra confidence that Chalmers exhibited on a daily basis.

With a flickering candle providing the scent of mulberry, the junior professor of psychology decked out in his appropriate attire began concentrating on the formulas and mathematical expression necessary to transport himself to the alternate world of Irish myth. The second time was going to be a lot easier.

It was easier, in a matter of speaking. Harold found the process of concentrating much easier this time and was not distracted at all by the swirling around him as the process began to take effect. What he hadn't counted on was a fly landing on one of his papers, effectively transposing an 'F' to an 'E'. Had he known, he might have been able to abort the sequence - but of course he didn't and completed the process in ignorance with the modified logical expression.

He found himself suddenly deposited on the bank of a great river, green grass underfoot and a blue sky above. So far so good; at least it wasn't frozen like his first excursion to the land of Odinn and Thor. He checked himself; his clothes were intact, and he still had his shoulder bag he had loaded with a few potentially useful items. Looking far down the shore, he could just barely make out a shape that looked like a stone mushroom; from this distance it was hard to determine scale so he had no idea if it was a natural formation, a man-made structure, or something else. After staring for some time in the survey of the shoreline, he swiveled around and came face to face with a man who was staring at him. The man seemed to be close to his age, of thin build, and had clothes made of a simple cloth. No jewelry adorned his fingers or wrist.

Harold waved his hand in what he hoped was a universal greeting. "Hello" he said, trusting that his projection into this world would have changed his speech enough to be understood.

"Hello" the person answered back. "Just how did you appear here just now? I've never seen anyone pop in away from the grailstones." The speech had a definite English accent which was unexpected.

"I, ah, well...it's rather complicated. What's a grailstone?"

"If you don't know what a grailstone is then you are definitely NOT from around here, but then again none of us are if you think about it. My name's Thomas, by the way." He stuck out his hand for a traditional handshake.

Pleased to recognize at least this gesture, Harold took the offered hand. "Anyone else around here?" he asked.

"You mean like those people?" Thomas asked with a grin, turning slightly and pointing away from the water. A group of several dozen people stood at least a hundred feet away watching the two.

"Okay, that answers that question. Now this is going to sound strange, but when am I?"

Thomas rocked back on his heels. "When?" He looked up at the sky to judge where the sun was. "I'd say about an hour before noon, give or take."

"No, I mean what year is this?"

"Oh, year. I don't know exactly what a year is around here, but we're a couple hundred days into our settling, now. They haven't got a real calendar, you know, so that's an estimate. My group doesn't really pay that much attention to it. Is that real leather? It's seems so long since we left Earth I've almost forgot what it looked like."

"My vest? Sure it is."

"Can I touch it?"

Harold was starting to get an uneasy feeling. "Um, sure." Thomas gingerly reached out and ran his finger down the material and pulled it away, lost in a momentary nostalgia. "The bag is too, of course. I may regret asking, but _where_ am I them?"

"Now that's a fair question, and one that I haven't heard since...well...for some time anyway, since we got here. The best answer I can come up with is 'Welcome to Riverworld', since that's come to be the common name for whatever this planet is." Thomas had to look down to see Harold, who had sat down with a soft thud on the grassy ground. "To try to help you, we're going to play twenty questions. You get ten and I get ten. You start."

Not being able to count all the questions that were swirling around in his head, Harold grabbed one that whizzed by his faculties close enough to be recognized and offered it to start. "How do you know this isn't Earth?"

"Fair enough question. In my line of work I had to learn the sky, and the night sky here is nothing like back home. We seem to be in a pretty busy part of a galaxy, but without any reference points I can't even guarantee we're in our galaxy. Now my first question: How did you die?"

"Die? I haven't died. I was working on a...scientific experiment...and traveled here directly from my home near campus. I think I made a wrong turn somewhere since I was, ah, aiming for Earth. How did you die?"

"That's your second question. I died while exploring in 2028. There was a malfunction of some sorts and I got separated from my vehicle; without it I didn't survive long. Now my turn: What was the general nature of your experiment?"

"I'm a psychologist, and my colleagues and I have a theory that you can travel to alternate realities or worlds by using the correct symbolic logic to set your mind to that world. I've done it once before, intending to visit the world of Irish mythology but ended up in Norse mythology instead. We believe it was just a matter of refining the technique. Oh, and I come from 1940 by the way." Harold had a thought. "Do people travel to other worlds by our method in your time?"

"No. I've never heard of your method, so it either isn't done or done in secret. I've done some traveling in my time too, but not by power of the mind. If you can travel back, can you take someone with you?"

Harold started to answer immediately but then stopped himself short before continuing more thoughtfully. "I really don't know. The first time I wasn't prepared at all, and had no means to get back until...this may sound odd, but that world had magic and a witch sent me back accidentally. Well, on purpose really, but I didn't want to go at that moment and...it's a long story. This time I came prepared with some notes that I hope would help me back if I can't find a local magician. I honestly don't think I could take someone back unless they had been trained to think in terms of symbolic logic. At least I don't think so; that should be part of a future experiment I think. I don't suppose there are any magicians around?"

"No, sorry. From what I've learned the whole planet is pre-industrial, but no magic. Not even the kind for entertainment" Thomas added. "That was four. Where were you when World War II broke out?"

"There was another one after the Great War?"

"Yes. That's five."

"Wait!" Harold interrupted. "That wasn't a new question - I was asking for clarification. I know things are getting dicey in Europe, but we've only had one big war. I was too young for that one."

"Okay, I won't count that one. What's in your bag?"

Somewhere in his head, an alarm began to sound and Harold tried to figure out what it was. This Thomas seemed friendly enough, but there was something that bordered on...on...

He struggled to identify it, and then it came to him: paranoia, or at least an industrial-strength suspicion seemed to drive the man. He glanced at the group that was beyond the pair and noticed for the first time that some held spears. "Am I in trouble?"

"It isn't your turn; you haven't answered my question yet."

Feeling a lot more uneasy, Harold decided it was time to learn as much as he could about where he was rather than waste questions. But first he had to answer; there was no reason he knew of to lie, and there was a healthy side to being suspicious of a stranger. "I thought I was going to ancient Ireland, so besides the notes I might be able to use to travel back I also packed a few items that could be used in rudimentary magic. I have a strong suspicion that they won't work in this society. Now, am I in trouble?"

"That one was number five then. The answer to that one depends; I've been sent to interview you. My group is mostly made up of people that lived in the early 1500's from the area that would become Brazil I think, while I'd say about a fifth are from other areas and times. But as a whole I'd say they don't know what to make of you; they think you might be one of the people that put us here and they aren't particularly happy about it. You showed up differently, late, and you're dressed differently. Umm, are you married or have any children?"

"Finding out about my next of kin; that doesn't sound good. For the record I've never been married, and have no children - it looks like Gertrude gave up on me already." He wanted to ask the same question to be friendly, but he didn't have unlimited chances. "If I appeared in an unusual way, how do people normally show up?"

"It seems we all showed up at the same time on day one, lying on the ground next to those big grailstones that line both sides of the river that by all accounts takes up the whole planet. I actually started somewhere else with a group from England; but if you die you get resurrected the next morning at a different grailstone and appear lying down, asleep. Who won the World Cup in 1940?" Thomas asked.

"Beats me, I don't follow soccer. I can tell you who won the Kentucky Derby because it was the horse I DIDN'T bet on. I'll tell you what though - that's an odd question to be asking me."

"I'm trying to figure out if you are who you say you are by asking general questions; that was question seven."

"I didn't ask a question" Harold smiled. "You volunteered that one yourself."

"So I did" Thomas laughed. "Very good; maybe you ARE a psychologist after all. Or a lawyer. Ask your question then."

Feeling a little empowered, Harold perked up. This Thomas fellow wasn't too bad. "There must be a lot of people on the planet then; why are you all here? I mean, I haven't died yet; I'm just, ah, passing through you might say."

"Good question; my official answer is we don't know. Everyone I've talked to died on Earth and woke up here with everyone else. No instructions, no orientation, and a one-way ticket it would seem. You'd better stand, I think. Can you swim?"

"I'm better at tennis, actually" Harold answered as he stood. "But that seems like another particularly odd question for you to ask."

"But eminently practical my new friend, because I don't think we're going to be allowed to get all of our questions" Thomas said, jerking his head over to the crowd that was now advancing with spears out. "Either swim or travel back the way you came here" he urged, and then looked at the group as a spear landed at his feet. "They must think I'm in on it too. Better get going!"

Harold fumbled to open the satchel that was slung around his shoulder; forgoing metal, he had chosen one that tied with some leather lace. He found his fingers were simply not up to the task of untying a simple knot as the two started moving toward the water. The group began to close more quickly, and Thomas took a spear in the back as Harold watched hopelessly.

"If you find a widow to an astronaut named Major Tom, tell her I love her very much" he gasped. "Now run!" he managed before collapsing face down. Harold took the advice and ran as fast as he could into the river, splashing into the water as he hurried away from the group. The bottom sloped more quickly than he anticipated, and he struggled to swim with coat and satchel pulling at him. With a desperate gulp he went under, still fighting to get free of his gear. Unable to hold his breath any longer, he quickly succumbed to drowning.

...

With a "poof" Harold appeared in his living room, soaking wet and gasping. His satchel finally opened, pouring its contents of water, soggy papers, water, magic reagents and more water onto the floor. Harold looked around the room and saw that the candle had only burned an inch or two; no one would be the wiser. He looked at the now soaking floor and wondered just how he was going to explain the mess to the housekeeper; he certainly wasn't going to say anything to Chalmers about his latest failure. What he _was_ going to do was to look up what an "astro-not" was, and took little comfort in the fact that Thomas expected to reappear somewhere else on the Riverworld.

The End

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**A/N: I was trying to think of another person to put onto the Riverworld, and David Bowie's Major Tom came to mind. But I needed him to interact with somebody, and when they talked about alternate worlds/myths/history that could be traveled to in The Compleat Enchanter I put the two together.**


End file.
